


That Which Dreams Are Made Of

by uhnonniemiss



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Ableism, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, Canon Disabled Character, Child Abuse, Claustrophobia, Disney AU, Fluff, I'M SORRY STUFF CAME UP ILY, I've been so excited for this wow, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Stargazing, Swearing, Tangled AU, Violence, WILL RETURN, hydrophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2445242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhnonniemiss/pseuds/uhnonniemiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Hermann is the result of a drop of starlight, a father who despises him, and eighteen years spent watching man-made stars alone in his tower. Little does he know that his entire world is about to be turned upside down; and not necessarily always for the better. A Disney's Tangled AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

There are a few things that the people of Corona knew for certain. They knew, for example, that the birdsong in the Western mountains was the sweetest sound in the world. They knew that heavy summer rain made the strongest golden crops come autumn. And most of all, they knew that the stars belonged in the sky, and while it was easy to gaze up at night, the stars were content to glimmer above them, just out of reach, never interacting with their admirers.

That is, except for once.

Once, when a single drop of liquid starlight fell to earth, blossoming and blooming into a fragile silver plant, leaves unfurling and petals reaching back up to their home. The folk of Corona cooed and revered the plant, which grew in the centre of the palace gardens, bringing shock and despair as petals began to fall to make way for new spring buds. The despair was countered, though, when the old gardener with the stooped back swept up the petals, brushing one accidentally, and suddenly finding she could stand tall and dance as she could as a maiden. After this, the petals were gathered when they fell, and given to the sick children of the kingdom, and the people loved the flower more than ever.

As time passed though, the people grew worried as the pregnant queen became sicker and more frail. Every fallen petal in the kingdom was gathered to help her, and eventually in a fit of desperation, the king Lars tore up the flower from the roots, almost weeping at the death of the plant but seeking only to cure his wife. The queen grew a little better from the flower, and managed to bear a healthy child, her flower prince, in the breaking hours of the dawn. She held him long enough to tell the young prince that he was loved, and to name him Hermann, for her father and his father before him. As the pink-streaked sky faded to a gentle blue-white, the queen's eyes drifted closed, and she fell into the deep kind of sleep from which it is impossible to wake.

At first, the thought of a son and heir to carry on the king's legacy had been wonderful, and the castle had been full of the king's mirth and anticipation. Now, though, with his fair queen no longer at his side, he grew bitter and spiteful towards the boy, blaming him for the queen's demise, until he could no longer stand the sight of him. To make matters worse, as a nursemaid bathed and cared for the prince, she saw that his leg was marred and twisted, and she knew the boy could never walk unaided, never be the strong warrior his father had hoped for. The flower prince cried and cried gleaming silver tears, until his father tore into the nursery, balling his hand into a mighty fist and attacking the wall in frustration.

"How dare you sit there and cry, when she died so you may be strong?" The king shouted, anger and grief burning in his voice like flame. "How dare you scream for pity, when you are the _monster_ who killed her." He spat the last word, his hand flying to the prince's throat. He watched as tears trickled down his hand to bloodied knuckles, saw the skin knot and heal until it was whole again, silver absorbed into its surface. He pulled away, as though burned. "Oh, you truly are an abomination. You dare to heal me with your devil magic?" He could not bear to be in the child's presence anymore; with a glare, he fled the nursery, heading towards the heart of a kingdom.

Here, he met with a young carpenter's boy, who he paid a few meagre coins to steal into the castle and snatch the child from its cradle, and hide him away in a tower, deep in the forest. However much he despised his son, he bore his mother's eyes and his mother's blessing upon his brow, so the king had not the heart to take his life, only to make him an outcast, locking him away from all human contact while the king poured out apparent despair from the kidnap of his child. He created a tribute for the child; a cloud of blue and silver lanterns, sparkling like the stars that had truly bore him, a sign that the lost prince would never be forgotten. Except, as Hermann sat alone in his lofty dungeon, it did not stop him feeling very much alone. For while the king brought food and amusements to distract the child, lest it try to escape and undo his secret, and took the child's tears, making him stronger, more powerful, gaining more love and respect from the kingdom than any of his predecessors, the child grew hearing only words of sour hatred. Prince Hermann grew up alone, desperate to see the world but unable to escape from his prison, with no friendship and no more love than his mother's whispered words to an infant.

The people of Corona knew a few things for certain. But most of all they knew that their little flower prince would never return home.


	2. A Wish Upon a Lantern

"Morning! Morning! Rise and shine!"

Hermann groaned, blinking sleep out of his eyes and glaring at the parrot perched on the balcony. "Crackles, must you do this at every dawn?" The bird cawed again, fluttering over in a cloud of multicoloured feathers and perching on the edge of Hermann's bed. Hermann lay there for a moment, closing his eyes and feigning a snore, but all that earned him was a sharp clip on the nose. "Ugh, fine. Fine. I'm getting up."

The sunlight filtered in warm, golden shafts through the half-open shutters, coaxing Hermann into something human as he padded across the floor. He threw the shutters wide, filling his lungs with the air's sweetness for a long moment. _Still beautiful._ Within half an hour, the tower was filled with the scent of tea leaves and soap and Hermann slowly, gradually, prepared to spend another day within the castle walls.

It wasn't that the tower was unpleasant, exactly. Lars had a constant belief that Hermann would determinedly try to escape ( _through a five-storey window with a lame leg_ , Hermann thought with an air of boredom), so the room was filled with science and alchemy books with cracked spines, a work desk of mechanical parts for building tiny automatons, and best of all, a chalkboard that reached as high as the rafters, wooden ladders stood at either side so Hermann could reach the summit. Almost every inch of the board was covered now, swirling colours and lines blocking out the darkness; over nearly eighteen years, fairytale characters and animals and robots and stars sprawled across the surface, a map of every dream or story Hermann had ever imagined. So the tower wasn't _bad_ , it was just… awfully lonely. His best friend was a _bird_ , for goodness sake. There was no use having a world of colour and numbers if nobody was there to see it.

"Lantern!" Crackles cawed loudly from his stance on Hermann's shoulder, making him wince. "Lantern!"

Hermann sighed, taking a sip of tea. "I know. The lantern festival is tomorrow night. And I swear, I will ask him." A fire burned behind the deep brown of Hermann's eyes. "I will. If I go after dusk, I can make sure nobody sees me; I'm certain Lars will let me go this time." He glanced at the clock, starting when it was later than he thought. "Oh, he'll be here any second! Go, Crackles, go!" He shooed the bird into the darkness of his wardrobe hurriedly, slamming the door and breathing a sigh of relief, heart still hammering in his chest. Not a moment later, he heard Lars' voice shout from the foot of the tower.

"Monster? I'm here," the regal voice called up, dripping with privilege and disdain as Hermann backed as far away from the window as he could. Some kings withered and shrunk as their reigns and lives wore on, becoming wizened and frail. Lars, though, was as strong as a boar, hearty enough to slay a group of the beast with his bare hands, let alone scale the vines that wound their way up to the window.

It made Hermann sick, the knowledge that he'd given that to him.

The cruel face appeared, rough hands grasping the windowsill. "Must you always look at me as though I carry disease? It's rather unbecoming," Lars said tiredly. "Even for a nasty animal, you are a disappointment." Hermann looked at his feet, silent from defiance, from fear. "It's the festival tomorrow, I need to be in the finest health; I require your tears, devil."

Hermann leant with his back pressed against the wall, his entire frame shaking. The flame of defiance spat sparks within him, catching his voice alight. "No."

Lars laughed, fake and booming and heavy with threat. "What do you mean, no? You do as I command, abomination."

"I won't do it." Hermann's eyes crept slowly from the floor, locking onto Lars' own. "I am tired of making you strong as you go out into the world. Why should I heal you, when all I am is a demon to you?"

"I see," Lars said, his voice barely a breath. "I see." He stared at Hermann levelly, and then in a crashing tsunami of rage, he dived towards him, seizing Hermann by the throat and suspending him in the air. "You dare to defy me, after I let you live? After I give you shelter? After you _kill_ that which is most dear to me?" He spat in Hermann's face, making him flinch. "You disgust me." He let Hermann drop to the floor, sneering as his leg gave out and he crumpled into a heap. "Ah, at last, it cries," Lars held up his hands in mock prayer as silver drops began to pool in the corner of Hermann's eyes, then roughly scooped up the droplets, cupping them in his palm and swallowing them. Realising Hermann was still on the floor, he looked confused. "Are you quite finished, abomination?"

Hermann said nothing, looking solidly downwards, so the king decided to continue regardless. "Loathe I am to do this, it's almost the anniversary of the day you were spawned onto this earth- your mother would have someone commemorate it, and am I not good to you? Have I not given you everything you could desire?"

"Outside." Hermann said, simply, looking up to meet Lars' eyes. "Sire, I know I'm not permitted to leave, but I'm almost eighteen-"

"Oh, monster," Lars sighed, as though disappointed with a small puppy. "You really think you deserve to be seen outside these walls? The people- fine as they are- would recognise you for the murderer you are in a heartbeat, and slaughter you on the spot. Besides," he gestured to Hermann's leg. "Would you be able to walk to the kingdom at all? Were you expecting me to let you ride in on a plumed horse and carriage?" He laughed, forced and angry.

"I've a cane!" Hermann pointed to the long, angular mechanical contraption leaning against the wall, all adjustable cogs and scrap metal. "I could go at night, I wouldn't be seen at all, I swear it, I just want to see the lights-"

"The stars? You can see them as you wish."

"No, no," Hermann shook his head, voice trembling a little less. "They aren't stars. They aren't in my astronomy books, they're manmade, like lanterns, and I want to see them up close-"

"Hermann." A hand was laid on his shoulder, making him flinch. "You'll watch it from your window, like every year. You don't belong out there, and you never did. You know that, don't you? You exist to make me strong and to serve as a reminder of the evil in this world. Not to spend your time chasing silly lanterns. You understand, don't you?"

The fire inside Hermann flickered and died. "Yes, Sire," he muttered in a low, dead voice from the floor.

"Good." The hand retreated immediately. "Since you insist on being difficult, I'll just bring you scrap metal again. Perhaps you can build your way out of here, hm?"

"Yes, Sire."

Lars hopped onto the windowsill in a great leap, gripping the vines with more strength than before. "Be seeing you, monster," he said, half-threat, before climbing swiftly back to the ground and rejoining the real world again. Hermann struggled to his feet, pausing only to free a ruffled-looking Crackles from the wardrobe before collapsing, defeated, onto his bed.

Crackles nibbled gently at his earlobe. "Lantern!" he cawed forlornly, as Hermann rested his chin on interlinked hands, his young face impossibly lined and aged.

"I know." He gazed up at the chalk surrounding him, its beauty overwhelming and somehow still not enough. A dark sky took up most of the space, interrupted with pinpricks of white and blue lanterns, floating up from the castle into all the places he could never go, would never see. The only figure in the picture was a young man with a cane, curled up on a grassy bank, and Hermann wondered if that boy had felt more love than a few half-remembered words. Hermann wondered if that boy had friends, smiled, didn't have to savour sweet summer air.

Hermann hoped so. He knew someone in this world deserved it, and it was never going to be him. He wasn't that young man, not really, not anymore.

He ran a finger absently down Crackles' wing. "One day," he promised, mostly to himself. "One day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah Pascalle is a parrot don't judge me Hermann would totally have a parrot.
> 
> FUN FACT: You're wondering why Crackles says rise and shine? It's because Hermann's never had a parent or anything to wake him up in the morning, but he taught Crackles how to say things like that from his storybooks. That's not a fun fact at all I'm sorry.
> 
> Twitter: @otxchi  
> Tumblr: Juniperpunk
> 
> Please leave reviews/kudos I love to know your thoughts xxx


	3. Otachi

Otachi pushed his glasses up his nose, squinting at the floor map. "Alright, so what's the plan. We do have a plan, right?"

The taller, dangerous-looking man all but growled next to him. "Of course we have a plan. You dive in. Grab the crown and throw it up to me. We ride away, split the profits, spend the rest of our lives holed up on our own respective islands. Far away from each other," he said sharply, emphasising each word, as he glared at Otachi through a single dark eye.

"That's a good plan," Otachi nodded to himself. "I like that plan a lot. Just to be clear, I'm doing the dangerous, life-risking, hard bit?" The other man nodded. "Great. I like you a lot, Hannibal, I ever tell you that? You're just a really swell guy."

"The feeling isn't mutual, kid."

Otachi grinned "Wonderful! I love myself enough for both of us, anyhoo." He tied the rope around his waist, tugging on it to make sure it was secure. "Alright, hoist me down."

"Hoisting." Hannibal started to lower Otachi into the castle atrium. He swung wildly for a few seconds, before flinging out his arms, maintaining his balance and swearing quietly under his breath. _Hoist a little slower, turdblossom._

He reached out a hand, fingertips grazing the top of the crown. _Okay. Gotta time this._ The guard- the guard that was way too close for comfort, now he noticed- half-turned, making Otachi freeze in position and hold his breath. After an agonisingly long heartbeat, he continued a bored sweep of the floor. Otachi let out a quiet breath, and reached for the crown again; this time, he held it for a second, but it slipped away, clattering back onto its stone podium. _Whoops_. The guard's head whipped around, and Otachi grabbed the crown quickly, stuffing it into his satchel.

"Interloper!" The guard shouted, banging his spear on the floor. "Intruder! Arrest him!"

Otachi shrugged, which is surprisingly hard when horizontal and suspended by a rope. "Well, I have heard I'm arrestingly handsome, so-" He gave a quick tug on the rope, a signal that had absolutely no effect. "You know, that line works a lot better when you leave quickly afterwards. Hannibal?"

At the shout, he started soaring upwards, clipping the guard's helmet with his foot as he swung precariously, uncontrollably in the air. "Later, alligator," he grinned, as he grabbed onto the ledge of the roof and pulled himself up the last few feet. He could get used to this, the danger, the adventure, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Then again, he sort of _was_ used to it, and could probably just as easily get used to relaxing on a white sandy beach with a pile of money, too.

"Okay, go go go," Otachi shouted, untangling the rope from around him and gripping the satchel and following Hannibal. Gutters clanged and almost gave way beneath their feet, roof slates clattering to the ground below as they made their escape, darting from the paved city and into the spaces between tightly-packed trees.

 

They ducked behind a large oak, breathing heavily. Otachi's heart sank when he saw the weathered scroll secured to one with an arrow. "Oh, no. This is the worst."

Hannibal glared at him. "What, kid?"

"Don't call me kid, you're like, what, ten years older than me?" Otachi shook his head, grabbing the scroll. "Look at this! They never get my tattoos right, damn it." He brandished the paper at Hannibal. Wanted, Otachi, Master Thief, Dead or Alive. "Like, what even is that? Is that a griffin? Who the hell gets a _griffin_ inked on them in this day and age?"

Hannibal shook his head, setting off through the trees again. "Big deal."

"Easy for you to say! You look like some chiselled god in all your posters!" Otachi whined, but followed Hannibal in double time when he heard the whinny of the guard's horses behind him. It was only a few metres, though, until the ground gave way to a huge wall, at least a sheer vertical ten feet. Hannibal cursed loudly, kicking the wall with frustration.

"Alright," Otachi set his mouth in a firm line. "Okay. Just give me a boost, I'm sure I can pull you up from there."

Hannibal snorted. "Sure thing. Just hand me the satchel first."

"Really? You think I'd try and double cross you, after everything we've been through?" Otachi put a hand on his heart, mock-offended. "I'm wounded, Hannibal. Hurt, even." He grudgingly pulled the satchel from his shoulder and threw it at Hannibal's feet. "Fine. Let the record show that I'd expect more loyalty from a fellow criminal."

After some shuffling and complaining, Otachi managed to climb on top of Hannibal's shoulders, grunting as he managed to pull himself over the ledge. He looked down at Hannibal's outreached hand.

"Alright, kid, pull me up."

A smile tugged on the corner of Otachi's mouth. "Sorry, dude. Got my hands full here." He pulled the satchel from behind him, since he'd snagged it on the climb up.

"Hey, what happened to loyalty amongst criminals?" Hannibal shouted up, nervously looking round for the guards. Otachi shrugged.

"Well, I'm mostly just scum. Only my mother calls me a criminal. See you around, man," he grinned manically and took off running, leaving Hannibal's angry cries in his wake.

He leapt quickly over fallen tree trunks, wincing as he realised the guards had taken the long way round and were almost on top of him. (This realisation that came by an arrow whistling past his ear. Lovely. Whatever happened to memo notes?) "We've got him now, Gypsy!" The pompous voice sounded through the trees, making Otachi snicker _. Have you really, though._ He grabbed onto a strong-looking vine, shifting his weight and lifting his knees until he was swinging through the air. He kicked the guard hard in the side, sending him flying off his horse, and took his place, laughing wickedly. _Nice_.

Well, at least it _was_ nice, until the horse decided to stop moving. "Hey, fleabag. Hey, nerd. Come on. Keep doing your… horse… thing." The horse just glared at him scathingly. "Come on, dude, be a neighbour. Hey, neighbour, geddit?"

The horse's eyes flicked to his face, then to the satchel he was still holding tightly- then it decided to snap at it, loudly harrumphing and almost taking Otachi's fingers off in what quickly became some kind of glorified keep-away. They spun round in some weird horse-rider tango, until the satchel flew from his grasp, the strap barely hanging on to a branch that swept over a crevice. There was a moment's pause, before both horse and thief were scrambling to the edge of the cliff, hooves stamping on feet and fingers pulling on mane, until the were both at the edge of the branch.

Otachi reached out and inched the satchel onto his fingers. "Ha, you lose, carrot breath," he taunted, triumphant. Triumphant, at least, until the rotten branch snapped away from the cliff, sending Otachi and the horse screaming down to earth in a heap, the smell of dirt in their nostrils.

Otachi quickly crawled away behind a rock, covering himself in moss and fallen leaves to mask his scent. He watched as the horse got warily to its feet, scenting the air like a sniffer dog, and mercifully heading off in the other direction. He dived into a cave covered in a sheet of ivy, the horse stood silhouetted against it, and breathed an almost-silent sigh of relief. Job done. All he needed to do now was find a place to hole up for a few hours, make sure the coast was clear, and he could be gallivanting off to his next mission like it was nobody's business.

He pushed through the other, matching curtain of ivy- the cave was more of a tunnel, as it turned out- and when he saw the view, let out a low whistle. _Yep. That'll do._

The tower was pretty run down, as towers went. It looked like nobody had entered it in at least two decades, the vines curling up to the only window untamed and the brickwork crumbling at the edges. He tugged on the first vine- it'd definitely hold his weight, so he started pulling himself up, muscles screaming as they made it known they were sick of all this physical exercise lark. Yeah, he'd rest here for a little while, admire the spoils, chill. He swung his leg over the windowsill, collapsing onto a fairly soft carpet and leaned his back against the cold stone wall. Finally, Otachi let himself breathe a long sigh of relief, pulling the crown out of his bag and turning it over in his hands.

Of course, that's when a blunt object smacked into the side of his head, and all the lights went out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, we've all figured out who Otachi is. His real name won't be used until Hermann find it out though, sorry if that's a problem :/
> 
> FUN FACT: Ron Perlman (aka Hannibal) actually played the speaking Stabbington brother in Tangled, so it was kind of a no-brainer to have Hannibal in that role ^_^
> 
> The next chapter has been the best to write so far I'm so pumped xxx Please review/leave kudos to let me know what you thought of this chapter <3
> 
> Twitter: @otxchi  
> Tumblr: Juniperpunk


	4. Promises

Otachi woke to a sharp nipping at his ear. He batted the source away, hand colliding with a bundle of feathers and claws. "Ugh, what the hell, dude?" He blinked, eyes focusing on the trembling figure before him.

"Resistance is… resistance is futile!" The man said, holding a mean-looking cane in both hands and shaking like a very scared, very angry kitten. "I know why you're here, and I am not afraid."

Otachi raised an eyebrow. Just one, because he was cool. "Uh, great? 'Cause I was sort of planning to just sit here?" He tried to lift his hands in a peaceful gesture, but discovered he was bound to the chair.

The man stared at him, parrot perched menacingly on his shoulder. "You're here to kill me then?"

He spluttered. "Literally, what-?"

"Kidnap me, perhaps?" The cane almost clipped his face again. "Steal my powers, or my possessions?"

"Man, seriously, find your chill. I'm not here to do or steal anything. Didn't even know there was anything to steal. Except for maybe a few hearts." He winked. "The name's Otachi, babe, how you doin'?" Because, if you ignored the chair and the physical assault and the overall _freakiness_ , the guy really was kind of cute. In an underfed sort of way. He was about the first person he'd met who could rock an undercut, and there was a sort of warmth about his eyes. Otachi shook his head sharply. "Look, okay, maybe I am sort of a thief, but not of your stuff. I was just looking for a place to hide for a few hours, then I'll be on my way with my- hey, wait, where's my satchel?" He tried to awkwardly shuffle in his chair, looking for it.

The man smirked from above him. "I've hidden it where you would not think to look. It required several complex algorithms and probability predictors, but I completed them. You won't find it."

"Is that so, …"

"Hermann. And yes. Indeed." The man- Hermann- squared his shoulders proudly.

"Okay, fine, Hermann, just listen. I'm telling the truth, alright? I'm sure your… number things, stuff, they're great. But I swear, don't want anything from you, apart from a few miles between us. I'll just take my satchel and be on my merry way, shall I?"

"Danger! Danger!" The parrot called from his perch, and Hermann tilted his head to the side, considering, murmuring to the bird in a voice that was supposed to be too low for Otachi to hear.

"Yes, Crackles, but he doesn't seem to be about to attack me. Maybe he can help us," he mused, and Otachi rolled his eyes. _Great. I get Featherbrain and his accomplice Dr Doolittle as my captors. Give me strength._ "Alright, Otachi. Listen. I'll set you free, on one condition."

"I'm all ears."

Hermann gestured with his cane to one of the chalk drawings, the largest. "These lights. Do you recognise them?"

"Uh, sure. Those lanterns they send out because of the prince." Otachi shrugged.

"Lanterns. I knew it," Hermann said quietly to himself, before leaning back on his cane. "I want to see them. I want to see the entire world, but these lights are the most important part. If you take me to see the lanterns tomorrow night, and return me home safely, you can have your satchel. You can have _anything_ you wish for. But not before then, and believe me, you will never find it unless I hand it to you."

Otachi grimaced. "Yeah, uh, no can do. Me and the kingdom aren't exactly bros for life, at the moment, you feel?"

Hermann sighed, sitting calmly down on an armchair. "As you wish. Enjoy a life tied to a chair. I'll be glad of the company, truly." They sat for a moment in silence, neither willing to yield. "You have dragons on your skin."

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Otachi glanced down at the scaled beasts winding around his forearms. "I got an old medicine woman out in the mountains to do them. It's ink, just, like, permanent. Hurt like hell getting them done, but hey, they were worth it." Generally it wasn't preferable for a master thief to have a distinguishing mark, but Otachi figured he was already tiny and used eyeglasses, what was one more feature, especially if it was a really awesome one? "Fellow artist, I see?"

Hermann nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. They're rather fine, you know."

Oh, man. A cute guy- _a damsel in distress,_ no less- who appreciated ink. What's a brother to do? "Ugh." Otachi rolled his head back. "I'll take you to see the dumb lanterns, or whatever. Just let me out of these ropes."

"Really?" Hermann's face lit up, and damn if that wasn't the most precious thing. "You promise to take me?" Otachi nodded. "Then I promise you shall have your satchel. I do not break my promises. The promises we make to one another will show us the face of God, I believe."

Otachi groaned. "Oh, man, save me from the dramatics." He tried to bite back the sarcasm which rose like a gag reflex, and stared levelly at Hermann, who looked a little put out by his response. "You know, I bet this is gonna be an amazing, rewarding partnership. I can feel it."

Okay, so maybe some of the sarcasm sneaked through.

* * *

 

Otachi hopped off the vine, landing solidly on two feet and looking up at Hermann. "Hey, dude, you okay getting down?"

Hermann sat on the windowsill, cane clutched in one hand and feet dangling in the air. He was hunched over from the weight of the metal contraption on his back, but nobody would know it from the lightness he felt. _I'm finally at the brink. I'm halfway to the rest of the world._ For a moment, he hesitated- for all he knew, the king was right, and the first person he met was going to kill him and feed him to their dog. He was under a vague impression that that was what bad people did. But now… everything was ready. Everything was ready, and he was almost there. He squeezed his eyes shut, pulled the lever on the side of his backpack, and leapt into the air.

Otachi's jaw all but hit the grassy floor. "Woah."

Hermann wasn't flying, exactly, more… gliding, drifting softly in the air like a strand of gossamer. Two copper propellers pack kept the air circulating around underneath him, slowing his descent to a graceful arc. With his eyes closed, he seemed… ethereal, almost. Something not quite part of this earth. Something beyond it. Otachi blinked in disbelief. _He built something to keep him in the air with a few metal scraps and some battered textbooks? Damn, he really is smart._ It was all really quite beautiful until Hermann's engine spluttered and died, dropping him unceremoniously on his hands and knees in the dirt.

"Oh, man are you-" Otachi started forward, but the look on Hermann's face stopped him in his tracks. He was _mesmerised_. He shoved the backpack off, not noticing Otachi kicking it into the bushes ( _because you never know, you know?_ ) and felt the grass between pale fingers, tearing a few blades up from the roots and lifting them up to his nose, inhaling the deep scent of mud and rain. He stood up shakily, kicking off his shoes and digging his feet into the earth.

"It's amazing," Hermann whispered, eyes wide, and it hit Otachi like a tonne of horse dung. _Oh. He's never left the tower before._ "God, this is… is it always like this?"

Otachi just shrugged in response, mouth twitching into a smile. "Uh, I guess?"

"Incredible." Hermann shook his head in wonderment, walking stiffly over to a tiny patch of wildflowers, running his fingers over them as though they were spun gold. "Wonderful." He met Otachi's eyes, and his smile was brighter than all the stars and lanterns in the seven kingdoms.

"Yeah," Otachi grinned back. "Incredible." For a second, he didn't completely regret this adventure.

* * *

 

Hot damn, but did he regret this adventure.

Hermann stopped at what seemed like every single new plant. The guy nearly popped a vein with excitement as they reached the stream, water babbling gently against smoothed rocks, which incidentally would have been a great spot to hide a body.

That was sort of endearing, though, like a puppy on its first walk. No, the most irritating parts were Hermann's fairly frequent episodes of self doubt. He'd find a fallen log to sit on, and stare into space for a moment, muttering things like "Too dangerous" and "Going to be seen". The first few times, Otachi had tried talking to him, attempted to draw out some sense. Now, he just let it run its course. Like a nasty rash.

After a while, though, he turned quiet, only the odd isolated hitched breath breaking the silence which Otachi ached to fill with chatter. "Hey, dude, I can't pretend to know what your deal is, but stop beating yourself up about it. A little rebellion is healthy."

"No, ah, it's not that," there was a certain tightness in Hermann's voice that made Otachi turn around worriedly. The lines on the guy's face- _how did he even have lines, what was he, seventeen?_ \- were deeper, more pronounced, his features half-grimace. "I'm afraid I fell a little heavily on my leg. I thought I could bear through it," he barked out a short laugh. "It appears not. It will pass." His _I hope_ went unspoken.

Otachi's expression softened. "Ah, man, you should've said something. Wait here," he held up his hands, diving into the undergrowth. A few seconds later he re-emerged, feathery green herbs clutched triumphantly in his fist. "Knew I saw some of this as we walked. It's feverfew, so like, it's not perfect, but it'll numb some of the pain. Just chew the leaves until it starts to feel a little better." He held out the plants to Hermann, who took them hesitantly.

"Thank you, although I'm sure I've read something about taking plants from strangers." His voice was wary as he put the leaves in his mouth. He looked confused for a few seconds, before the tension started to drain out of him. "It's already working. How did you know?"

"Ah, my dad was the local healer for the village where I grew up, treating wounded soldiers and stuff. He was a genius, knew what was wrong just by looking at someone. I spent the first few years of my life helping out in the infirmary, I got to know my way around painkillers, at the very least." Otachi said it nonchalantly, trying to stop his cheeks from burning under the way Hermann looked at him. It was different from before- respect? Friendship? Otachi caught himself from shuddering. _Emotions_. This is why he didn't talk to people.

Hermann was silent for a moment, the dull thud of their feet on grass the only sound. "So you're a genius, too? A physician?"

"Pff, hardly." Otachi waved away the idea. "Grass expert is closer to the truth. Plants, creatures, critters, if you wanna know about them, I'm your guy." Hermann didn't answer, just kept looking at him with that strange expression, so Otachi let it drop. They still had a long journey ahead.

* * *

 

A bush fluttered and croaked, sending Hermann reeling back and ducking behind Otachi, cane hefted in his hand. "What's that? A beast? A ruffian? A mob sent to attack me?"

Otachi snorted. "Yeah, real impressive bush mob." He gave it a nudge with his toe, and a toad hopped out of it, all knobbly skin and innocent bulging eyes, which sent Otachi into fits of laughter. "Hey, man, be careful," he gasped, tears in his eyes. "It could attack at any moment."

Hermann rolled his eyes, scooping up the amphibian in his hands. "I apologise. I'm a little on edge, it seems." He then preceded to ignore Otachi completely, making small noises to the toad. _Oh, my God, what a dork. A dork I totally do not identify with in any way._

"Hey, why is that? You got some kind of assassin on your tail?" he asked, genuinely curious. A guy who'd spent his whole life cooped up in a tower couldn't have made many enemies.

"Hm? Oh, possibly." Hermann set the toad down, where it croaked in farewell and jumped off into the dank bushes. "Any number of people could be out to kill me, it's not unlikely there's some form of hired man. Villains all and sundry may ambush me, that's why I lived in the tower. Well, one of the reasons."

"But… why?" This dude was nice. He made cooing noises at _toads_ , for the love of god. A weird sort of heat flushed through Otachi- maybe he was coming down with something. "What did you do to them? The worst thing you've done to me is talk like some archaic storybook and get way too excited by dandelions."

"Is it not obvious?" Hermann asked, before his eyes lit up. "Is that a cottage?" The trees and wildlife had bled into huts along the path, and it was true, tiny houses and thatched cottages had started to appear, which Hermann now stared at, enraptured. "Look at the brickwork! I wonder what kind of equations are needed for the angles-" Otachi groaned out loud. They could do with a few ruffians right now, truth be told, then maybe Hermann would give up this misadventure and go home.

Actually, there was a thought.

"Hey, so Herms. Hermann. Big H." Otachi hit his shoulder lightly. "Sure would be bad if we ran into some nasty folks, right?" Hermann nodded vehemently. "So, like, say we ran into some really bad guys, that wanted to hurt you- the lanterns aren't as important as that, right? Right?"

Hermann hesitated. "Well, I suppose if they were truly dangerous, I could be persuaded to return home, but… why do you ask? Is it likely?" He sounded so worried, it broke his heart, but man did he want that satchel back.

"Oh, hey, no reason, no reason at all." He tilted his head. "Hey, Hermann, are you hungry? I'm starving, we should take a break. We don't have to be there for ages, anyways, and I know the perfect place just near here."

"Well, I-"

"Brilliant." Otachi strode forward purposefully. "You'll love this little tavern. I just know it."

* * *

 

"The Snuggly Kaiju?" Hermann said dubiously, looking up at the sign, a crudely drawn monster with a cartoon grin. Crackles, who'd been supervising from the skies, perched on his shoulder and looked equally dubious, if that were possible. "Weren't the Kaiju horrific monsters from fairytales, that destroyed villages and kidnapped royalty?"

Otachi made a non-committal hand gesture. "Eh, they get a bad rep. This is a snuggly one, anyway. Who doesn't like snuggles? Come on, you'll love it." He led Hermann in through the rotten-wood door. "Woah, get a load of that sweet odour. It's like, part bad smell, part man smell, part bad man smell, but mostly just dirt. You getting hints of this?" The tavern looked the same as ever- grimy, dark, with a a suspicious stain on one of the tables.

Hermann's back was against the door. "Ah, I do believe this isn't the welcoming place you thought of, Otachi." He was staring very nervously ahead, more specifically very nervously at the giant bearded man who had a dagger levelled at his throat.

"Ladies, gentlemen!" Otachi smiled wide, pointedly ignoring the arrow that sank into the door a few inches from his head. "How pleased to make your acquaintance!"

"Grab them!" A booming voice commanded, and then rough hands seized them by the arms, pulling them forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Hermann made a jet pack thing okay please suspend your belief at the door using the bullcrap provided
> 
> FUN FACT: I googled painkilling herbs and there's a reason I didn't pursue biology tbh. Feverfew doesn't work like that in the real world pls don't do what Hermann does !!! Again, disbelief, suspension, all that jazz.
> 
> They've met now <3 let the adventures commence!!!
> 
> Tumblr: Juniperpunk  
> Twitter: @Otxchi
> 
> Please leave kudos/reviews as I love to know what you guys think xxx


	5. The Snuggly Kaiju

Hooves tapped against the dry earth, pawing against the grass and dirt as a white muzzle tried to scent the trail. Gypsy let out a frustrated whinny, stomping harder than absolutely necessary; the thief's smell seemed to stop at the foot of the tower, morphing into something similar, but merged with something else, something sweeter, and the two had become indistinguishable from each other. And Otachi had run away alone, with no friends and nowhere to hide around here, so it was almost impossible for the scent that was apparently his to _actually_ belong to him. Gypsy _harrumphed_ , irritated, and (with surprising logic, for a horse) started to retreat, until she backed into an angry looking man in a dark cloak.

"One of my palace horses?" The man said, more confused than annoyed, so Gypsy suspected that the look of anger was a permanent fixture. "Whatever are you doing without a rider so far out?" He hesitated, face darkening as his mind put two and two together. "He couldn't have. Monster!" The man (who, Gypsy decided on closer inspection, looked very much like the portraits of the king that were hung throughout the city) ran to the foot of the tower, seizing the strongest vines and beginning to haul himself up. "Monster, I found some metal parts in a market near the city, I elected to return early… monster?"

Gypsy stared up at the window, the shutters still open and banging against the stone walls. The man in the cloak stood at the top of the tower, his hands balled into fists, and cried his fury to the heavens. "I knew it!" The words were a growl, a promise of violence. "I knew the devil would escape given the slightest chance. But it can barely walk, let alone to the city- he had help, I know it." In a leap, he vaulted over the windowsill and landed with a grunt back onto the ground, diving towards Gypsy and snatching the wanted poster from where it was tucked in her mane. The parchment fluttered faintly in the breeze, until the man crushed the paper in his fist. "Otachi? The thief? He's sloppy, all style and no substance. If they're together, the monster will be easy to find again."

Gypsy started to back away slowly, even quicker as the man reached into his cloak and brandished a knife. "I'm not going to be the only one looking for them," he grinned, a manic spark in his eyes. "But by God, I will find them, and after I do, I'll make sure no one ever does again."

* * *

"Aw, dude," Otachi leaned away from the threateningly tall man who was currently far too close for comfort. "Can I offer you a breath mint? A toothbrush? You should really cut down on that garlic, oh my god…" He turned his head to Hermann, who'd apparently decided that this year's look was 'rabbit in headlights couture'. "Hey, man, you don't look so good. Maybe you should just head home, alright?"

The only guy who wasn't stood up slammed his palm down on the bar, probably catching something nasty in the process. "Shut up, and start talking," he demanded, making Hermann snort gently somewhere to Otachi's left. "I'm Pentecost. Otachi, you'll have heard of me."

He had, but that wasn't a comforting thought. "Uh. Yep. The, uh, the leader of the Corona mob and the man who's committed the largest number of crimes and the greatest heists since folklore begun. You know, your name's been mentioned a few times, or whatever." Dark eyes flashed in Pentecost's face, reminding Otachi of hot coals. Probably similar to the ones he was about to be dragged across.

"So you know exactly how dangerous I am." Pentecost crossed his arms over his chest. "And you know exactly how much I like to provide for this group here." He motioned with his head, and the girl with the blue in her hair and a mean-looking staff unfurled a wanted poster. "You know, the palace guards are asking an awful lot for your head, and it doesn't even necessarily have to be attached. So we get the money, and you stop nosing around on my turf and stealing the stuff I want. Birds and stones, my friend. Birds and stones."

"Who, me? Little old harmless me? That poster isn't about-" Otachi squinted at the poster. "Is that- that's a unicorn. They think I have a unicorn inked on me, what am I, a five year old? Uh, I mean," he glanced around nervously. "Not me. Not even."

"Mako, run and get the guards." Pentecost's mouth widened into something that was probably supposed to be a smile, but just made him look like a shark. "Sasha, Aleksis? Cut his throat."

"No, let him go!" Hermann tried to dive forward, but a man in a blue shirt and an obnoxious red tie held him back. "Don't hurt him, I'm begging you." He looked genuinely terrified, and not for the first time, Otachi regretted tricking him. Now, though, it was less just a matter about Hermann's feelings, and far more a matter about the sharp object being pressed against very vulnerable skin.

He laughed nervously, Adam's apple brushing uncomfortably close to the knife. "Guys. Friends. We're all reasonable here, right? We can talk this out like adults?" He held his hands up, surrendering, but the enormous couple continued to back him into a corner. He flinched as a fist was raised. "Ah, jeez, not the face."

"I'm serious!" Hermann wrenched himself out of Bowtie's arms and stormed into the rapidly advancing circle of thugs. His face was pale and his eyes were wide and he was quivering more than an autumn leaf on a branch, but he had a fire within him- one that Otachi would bet didn't come out very often. "What does it take to make you vapid infants listen? You can't kill him, because he's helping me." His eyes met Otachi's highly alarmed own, with a look that said _I have a plan._ Either that or _check out my intense free styling._ "I'm Hermann, and I'm rather a long way from home. I'm really more than a little afraid, and I know I wouldn't be able to fight you off if you decided not to listen to me."

"Yeah, Hermann, we need to work on your trash talking skills," Otachi muttered, but the entire room was silent, hanging on to Hermann's every word.

"But I implore you, please hear me out, and let him go." Hermann drew himself to his full height, his voice edging around desperation as Crackles fluttered protectively around his head. "Ever since I was a boy, I have longed to see the floating lights they cast off at the festival. All my life, I've been denied that chance, and Otachi is the first person in a long time to offer me anything approaching companionship or help. So, I _beseech_ you, let me follow my dream." His voice faltered when he was faced with stony expressions and still unsheathed weapons. "If you cannot find your decency, I ask only for your sympathy. You've all had dreams before, haven't you?"

Otachi was about to offer his last prayers up to all the gods he'd ever heard of, when he heard a deep voice rumble behind him. "I had a dream, once," Aleksis, one of his attackers, let his weapon drop to his side. It was a vague glimmer of hope, but Hermann seized upon it as though it were oxygen to a man suffocating. "Yes! Tell me about your dream!"

Aleksis pounded his massive fists against his chest. "I and my wife dreamed of being the strongest warriors in all the kingdom! Every citizen in the land shall fear our steel!"

One of the triplets in the red tunics snorted. "Yeah, sure, but mostly they want to start a cosy teashop and start selling scones. We can all vouch for Sasha's baking."

Sasha and Aleksis stared fondly at each other, and nodded sagely. "This, also, is our dream," the woman said in a thick accent. "Most people, they are scared of a warrior making coffee. But we shall make them cower if they refuse it!" She banged her axe against the floor, red-painted lips grinning.

Hermann winced, but smiled back encouragingly. "Perhaps adjust your approach a little, but a wonderful sentiment! What about you?" He gestured to the triplets in red, who fidgeted in eerier unison under the new attention.

The brothers spoke, not quite synchronised, but each one's words overlapping, taking over the sentence as each one decided to stop. "Mostly, we want to become closer to complete more impressive missions. But… we enjoy basketball. We could give any sports team in the kingdom a run for its money." Brother Two pointed at the man in the bowtie. "You can't mock us for our dream, alright, Tendo only wants a castle full of bagels."

Tendo shrugged. "I'm not even ashamed of that, to be honest with you."

"And you?" Hermann's spark dimmed a little as he turned to Pentecost. "What do you dream for?"

Pentecost steepled his fingers. "I dream for prosperity. I dream for the safety of those I hold dear to me. I dream that tomorrow, all my comrades will be there to dream with me."

Hermann nodded, bowing solemnly to him. "Noble, indeed, sir."

Pentecost inclined his head, then turned to Otachi, who'd been stood quietly in the corner trying not to attract attention, or even worse, a hug from one of the drunker, more enthusiastic marauders. "What about you? What's your dream?"

Otachi made a _pfff_ noise. "Ah, I'm not really the touchy-feely type, dude, you know me. I'm not gonna wax lyrical about some cutesy-ass wish to hug a puppy." He blanched as around twenty different blades were suddenly levelled at him. "Or you know, I could. Do exactly that. My dreams mostly involve money. Islands and money. No people though, that's a definite negatori on other people."

Hermann rolled his eyes. "Barring that comment, this only makes me happier that I left my tower. These stories- the promise of the lights-" he averted his eyes, flushing. "It's better than I could have imagined." Even Pentecost smiled at that- seriously, Hermann looked like butter wouldn't freaking melt. "Thank you."

The rotting-oak door burst open, revealing Mako with a group of guards behind them. "I brought them, father!" Otachi whistled, grabbing Hermann's hand and leading him as fast as he dared towards the back door of the shop. "Sorry, man, party's over," he whispered urgently. He pulled the door handle, wrinkling his nose in disgust; though his expression changed to shock as he saw Hannibal glaring on the other side, chained to a guard waiting with a bored expression. "Uh. Never mind." He slammed it shut, biting his lip and pulling Hermann behind him, Crackles fluttering overhead. They both glanced round anxiously, until Tendo beckoned them down behind the bar, holding up the door to a secret passageway.

"I'm sorry about this," he pressed a lantern into Otachi's hand and spoke fast, sounding genuinely fearful for them. "Please, go, live your dream."

Otachi put a hand on his heart. "Really? Thank you, that means a lot to me."

Tendo gave him a blank look. "I didn't mean you."

Hermann smiled warmly, clasping Tendo's shoulder. "Thank you for everything. If you ever need help, ask around for us."

"Ditto, brother," Tendo saluted to their retreating backs. "Ditto."

* * *

The captain of the guard held a spear accusingly at Pentecost. "We know you're harbouring the brigand Otachi, and one of his accomplices, they were sighted not far from here. Tell us what you've done with him, and your little band of rodents may just live!"

Pentecost blinked at him slowly. "Search the place all you like," he said calmly. "I'm not afraid of you, however much you'd like me to be."

The captain smirked, batting away a younger solider who appeared at his elbow. "Ah, I plan to," he replied, starting as he noticed the boy. "What is it, Becket? Haven't I told you not to approach from behind like that?"

The boy rubbed his nose, scowling. "We've looked everywhere, sir. He's not here. He escaped somehow-" he ducked as the captain's hand came dangerously close to his face again.

"Impossible!" The captain admonished, gesturing with his spear. "Bring Gypsy in! She's the best tracker-horse in the business." The air went silent, before the crack of the door hitting the wall sounded, and the dim tavern was suddenly filled with outside light. Gypsy stood proud in the doorway, sniffing as haughtily as possible for, you know, _a horse_ , and hesitating for a moment before trotting quickly to behind the bar. Dusty bottles full of mead rocked precariously on the edge of the shelves. She sniffed the wood grain, then rapped hard on a certain area, the sound echoing and hollow.

One of the guards pulled up the floorboard, revealing the tunnel. "Down here!" He shouted. "Go after them, don't let them get away!"

"Trust me, that's not gonna happen." If gravel and severe pain could speak, it would probably sound just like Hannibal Chau. He sauntered vaguely towards the guards, dragging the man he was chained to behind him like a dog on a leash; he grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and banged his head into the bar's surface, hard and repeatedly, until the keys to the chain were held out in a trembling hand. "I've been tracking that slippery bastard for almost two days now. There ain't a piss-stain's chance in hell that he's getting away with what he did to me." The captain raised his spear, but Hannibal snorted disdainfully. "Like you'd know how to use that knitting needle against me. You grab Otachi, and I'll grab the stuff he stole. _Comprende_?" The guards nodded mutely. "Good. Let's go catch us a traitor."

* * *

Tendo nursed his glass in two hands, staring mournfully at the trashed room. "Who knew that dreaming led to this?" He sighed, then flinched as his eyes focused on the knife blade pointed directly at his nose. "Ah. Hey there, brother."

"Do not mince your words, boy, or you'll lose your tongue," Lars growled from underneath a dark hood. "Now tell me, where does that passage reach the surface?"

* * *

Otachi squinted, boots crunching on twigs and stones underfoot. The lantern flickered ominously. "Hope you're not afraid of the dark, dude. We'll come to the surface at some point, don't worry." He hesitated, clearing his throat. "What you did back there- the, you know, the talking, and saving me from dying, and uh, stuff. That was- thank you. Thanks."

He felt Hermann shrug behind him. The space was tight enough that you could probably feel an ant scratch its butt. "It was nothing, really. I mean, it was highly impressive and required a lot of quick thinking, but still." Otachi snorted, and they walked in silence for a few moments. "You know, I've known you longer than almost anyone else in my life, yet I still know nothing about you."

"Woah, there, man. I'm not info dumping my autobiography on you. The less you know about me, the better. Anyway, yours has to be more interesting than mine," he cast a glance over his shoulder, seeing Hermann's closed expression cast shadows in the half-light, his cane making dull thumps against the floor. "Locked up in a tower, some kind of freaky secret promising imminent death, frankly I'm too scared to ask about the canary-"

"It's a parrot," Hermann said, affronted, over Crackles' offended screech.

" _Tomayto, tomato._ But seriously, man, one thing's been on my mind; if these lanterns were, are, so important, and you had a way of escaping, why is this the first time you've left?"

"I- well, I- Otachi…"

"Come on dude, spit it out."

" _Otachi_." The urgent word made Otachi spin round, saw the Captain of the guard gaining on them from behind. "Run!" Otachi shouted, gathering as much speed as possible and hurtling towards the chink of light at the end of the tunnel (and wasn't that just a metaphor and a half? He'd heard his dad spend half his life telling people not to go towards the light). He scrambled up the russet earth, pulling Hermann close to his side as they found themselves on a cliff. The clear evening air was sharp in his nostrils after the stale tunnel, the dusty yellow ground and waving green trees a contrast to the dinginess. He could hardly hear himself think over the rushing water- the river nearby, Otachi guessed. He ran to the edge, pebbles skittering under him, and flinched as he saw Hannibal appear at the bottom, still wielding a chain but this time without a captor.

"Who's that?" Hermann hefted his cane in his hands, eyes wide, wild.

"Uh, an acquaintance. _Friend_ is probably pushing it. Not my biggest fan." Otachi spun round, and was faced with the palace guards, star sigils emblazoned on their chest plates. "As are they, actually. Can't count them as being amongst my closest pals, if we're being honest."

"What about that!" Hermann gestured at the dappled mare that was glaring at him and stomping her feet menacingly.

Otachi whined. "Well when you line them all up like this, I seem really unpopular, don't I? I have friends, honest. I'm a riot at parties." He ushered Hermann onto a plank that spanned the cliff, shifting eye contact between his opponents and trying to look as threatening as possible. "They're after me, not you. You should be safe, but push the plank down as soon as you're over." He eyed Hermann's cane, the cogs and scraps gleaming the fading sun, and grabbed a sturdy-looking piece of fallen tree that looked about the right size. "Hey, man, can I borrow that for a sec?"

Hermann swapped with him, worry lines deep on his face. "Be my guest. And Otachi?" Otachi looked down; Hermann looked pale and sick, more frightened than he'd seen him before. "Be careful."

"I'll try, dude. But after all," Otachi flashed him a grin. "I am a rockstar. _En garde, nerds_!" His words became a battle cry, and he charged towards a wall of soldiers, turning the cane into some kind of battering ram. He hit three at once, sending them sprawling across the ground, then spun in a circle, hitting two more. His face became half crazed smile, half grimace. "Come on, then!" he goaded. "Come and have a go, if you think you're hard enough."

Gypsy neighed, pulling the sword from the belt of one of the fallen guards. Holding it firmly in her teeth, she advanced on Otachi, feinting left then lunging for him. Otachi parried the blow, taking a fighting stance. "Well. This is bizarre."

He struck out at the horse, metal scraping against metal, and all of a sudden they were duelling, slashing and attacking and counterattacking and riposting. Otachi gritted his teeth, but the horse had simply more, well, horsepower, and the cane went flying from his hands over the edge of the cliff. "Uh," he said, as Gypsy advanced on him, sword raised. "I have a plan. I always have a plan. That's what makes me awesome, right?" He swore under his breath, looking desperately around him for something, _anything_.

"Otachi!" Hermann called from the other side of the cliff. In his hands was a vine, which was tied in turn to a tough oak. " _Catch_." He threw the vine across the gap, the long plant twisting and unravelling, and Otachi grabbed it without thinking. He yelped as the force of it dragged him off his feet and away from Gypsy, laughing as he flew through the air, toes skimming the sandy floor lightly. He swung past Hannibal, sticking his tongue out as he whizzed past. "Ha, see you later, alligator." He took one hand off the vine, gesturing rudely at Hannibal; a move that ending up being a mistake, as it turned out. His fingers slipped down a few inches, then lost their grip completely, sending him crashing down the few feet onto the ground below.

Hermann rolled his eyes. "I can't take him anywhere," he sighed, using his stick to pull another sturdy-looking creeper from the tree next to him. Yesterday, he'd never have done this for anyone- jumping off a cliff with only a plant to slow his fall, it was _madness_ , where was the _science,_ the _mathematics_ \- but then again, yesterday he wouldn't have done any of this. Wouldn't have felt grass underneath his feet or drank water from a stream or heard the brilliant stories of the people in the tavern. Wouldn't have met Otachi. _So it's alright, really_ , he thought, as he gripped the vine with white knuckles. _Not so bad._

He screamed all the way down, naturally.

 _Too fast,_ he thought, panicked, the world rushing in earth-brown smudges around him, interrupted with the odd burst of panicked tropical feathers. The vine was too slack the ground was coming up too quickly and he was going to fall wrong oh god _oh god_ why did he do this why did he ever leave his tower-

" _Oof."_ Otachi grunted as Hermann fell into his arms as a pile of bones and confusion. "Jeez, Herms, for a skinny guy you're real heavy." His words were an urgent whisper, and Hermann realised as Otachi set him back on his feet that they were crouched behind a boulder, as Hannibal stalked the other side. "He thinks I ran that way, he'll leave in a few moments. You alright? Your leg okay?" Hermann nodded shakily, all the breath knocked out of him. Otachi laid a hand on his shoulder, which Hermann liked far more than he cared to admit. "We just need to keep going a little longer, then we can rest, yeah? Oh, here, I snagged this-" He picked up Hermann's cane from the floor next to him. It had lost a few pieces during the fall, but still seemed sturdy enough, and it fit into Hermann's hand like some kind of security blanket, stress falling away from him.

_Thud._

The dull sound came from above them, and they looked up in unison, craning their necks to see the top of the cliff. _Thud_. Dust clouded up from the source of the noise, almost obscuring Gypsy as she slammed her back hooves into the wooden support of the dam. _Thud. Crack._ The wood splintered, tiny spider web breaks spreading and joining until the beam fell downwards, crashing onto the floor below. Water began to spill out, and Otachi's eyes widened.

"Oh, no. The dam's gonna burst." He grabbed Hermann's hand, dragging him as quickly as he could away from the water. "They're trying to flush us out!" The wooden supports started to crumble and collapse behind them as they ran, sending waves of river water flooding their wake. "Just go, Hermann, go as fast as you can!" There was a deep, rushing sound as the dam wall broke, the wave crashing behind in a barrage of blue and debris. It advanced towards them, the force of it cracking boulders into so many pebbles- they swerved to avoid a stone that was ten times Hermann's weight, running faster as it started to roll, following their downward path.

Hermann's step faltered as he saw what they were heading towards. "Otachi!" He yelled. "Otachi, it's a cave! It's a dead end!"

Otachi swore, dragging Hermann on regardless. "We have to go in anyway, it's our only chance!" They barely made it through the entrance before the rock slammed in behind them, blocking out the light and making the ground shudder. Water crashed around and over it, rendering the cave- and more importantly, its exit- a new feature on a miniscule ocean floor.

Otachi and Hermann backed against the cave wall, breathing hard and blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light.. "Okay. Okay, so we're trapped. That's alright, we can work with this."

But Hermann shook his head, pointing at what used to be the cave opening. "Otachi," he said simply, urgently. "Look."

Otachi looked. Water was seeping in from underneath the boulder- _of course, it's not a door, of course the water will get in_ \- and with a crack, it began to pour from the cracks in the ceiling, drenching him like summer rain, and reaching his ankles, lapping at his shins before he realised what was happening. He blinked, all crazy plans and wild schemes gone from his head. He could only look at the water soaking through his clothes, and say, very very quietly;

"Ah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are getting longer ahahah
> 
> Fun Fact: I had to watch this scene six times before attempting to write it
> 
> Twitter: @Otxchi  
> Tumblr: Juniperpunk
> 
> The feedback I've had so far has been amazingly lovely, please keep it coming in as I love hearing what you guys think ^_^


	6. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back back again  
> s/o to skull-bearer for commenting and reminding me oh wait I should write this!!!

"Okay, don't panic," Otachi said, eyes wide and blinking as they adjusted to the darkness. He backed against the furthest wall of the cave, scanning it for tunnels, cracks, anything they could work with, but his fingertips only met sheer space, surrounding him in every direction. "The absolute worst thing we could do is panic." The walls suddenly jerked until they surrounded him and the air became so thin and scarce it was impossible to draw it into his lungs. Otachi slammed his hand against the wall, not even noticing as a sharp rock made blood well up on the skin, and he wheeled round to face Hermann, creating miniature tidal waves. "Oh God. We're gonna drown. We're never gonna- and you won't- don't panic, Hermann, just don't-"

His fragmented speech screeched to a stop as a hand smacked his face, and his blurry vision focused on a pair of deep brown eyes, making the rim of silver around the iris into an anchor (maybe he should think of a different metaphor there, actually. Not the best time for allegories about _sinking s i n k i n g_ ).

"Otachi!" Hermann snapped. "Get a hold of yourself! We need to think, and fast. You're smart, and you're resourceful, and together we can figure a way out of this." He clasped Otachi's shoulder hard, the pressure bringing him further back to himself. "I need you with me. Are you with me?"

Otachi took a shuddering breath. "Yeah. Yeah, man, I'm with you." The inky water was lapping against their chests, even as their feet scrambled for higher ground. "We, uh- we need to dive down-"

"And look for a way of digging an escape. That's right." He shoved his cane into Otachi's hand, ignoring his noise of protest.

"No, dude, your leg! Let me-"

"Can't feel it anymore." Hermann shook his head. "Too cold. Numb." That was going to be a problem, later, Otachi was sure. That is, if they still had a later at all. Hermann took a deep breath, and submerged himself entirely- _one second- two- three-_ he broke to the surface again, blinking polluted water from his eyes. "Anything?" Otachi asked, and Hermann shook his head, taking another breath and trying again. He went down for longer, this time, and Otachi was sure he'd found something, until he came up with a splash.

"It's too dark," Hermann gasped, breathing shallowly. "I can't see a thing." His mind flashed back to the lantern, now lying cracked at the exit to the tunnel- tried to see a way of scraping at the cave ceiling until there was sunlight- but it was no use. Hermann turned to him, and after a moment's hesitation, wrapped his arms around Otachi. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly. "If it wasn't for me, you'd never be in this mess, Otachi, I can't tell you how-"

"It's Newt." He smiled sadly, holding Hermann to him.

"What?"

"My real name is Newt. Newton Geiszler, if you wanna get formal about it. Somebody should know, before we… yeah." There was moisture on his cheek, that was definitely, most certainly the water surrounding them.

"Hm," Hermann said thoughtfully, as though musing some kind of new scientific theory. "I have magical tears that glow silver and heal wounds."

Otachi snorted. "Wait, what?" But Hermann was backing away from him, a shocked expression on his face. "What did you say?"

"I have- I have magical tears that glow silver!" Hermann grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "Newton! I need you to make me cry, don't ask questions, just do it!"

Newt gaped like a fish. Unfortunately he didn't actually become a fish, because that would have been kind of convenient. "Uh, I don't know? Sometimes kittens are sad? That thing happens when you pull a piece off your sweater and it unravels? We're trapped in a cave and about to face certain death through drowning? Because that's pretty damn-" Hermann glared at him, then turned away, his palms flat against his temples. "Hermann, what are you-"

"Waterworks," Hermann said, his voice cracking, and turned back to Newt, and he was… luminescent. The silver of his eyes seemed to glow even brighter, a film of silver tears gleaming in the darkness, and streaming, streaming like little shooting star trails down his cheeks. Before Newt could speak, Hermann had dived down into the water again, silver tears billowing in the water like so much smoke, illuminating tiny cracks and scratches on the walls. He gasped as he emerged, still crying, his face a picture of relief. "There's a tiny hole. Some of the water is seeping out, we can make it-" The water cut off the end of the sentence, sweeping over them and plunging them into darkness.

_One beat._

_Two beats._

Newt opened his eyes, trying to ignore the way his lungs were already burning, starved of air, sound muted and distant. Rough linen clothes floated in the water, and he was weightless, drifting, drifting in the tiny space offered by the cramped walls that were closing in closing in staying exactly where they were because he was not drifting, he was in control. He was with Hermann. Hermann, who had tiny star-like teardrops floating around him, like a cloud of silver fireflies, like flecks of phosphor glowing in the night sky. Tiny smoke trails blossomed from them, leaving ghostly streaks in the water, never lasting for more than a moment but lighting up the cracked cave walls just long enough to check for some kind of weak point.

Just like that one, right at the bottom of the cave; a tiny pile of rocks and stones plugging up a hole large enough to manipulate. Newt made a noise of urgency- swallowing a mouthful of water along the way- and gesticulated wildly, diving down and pulling away the rocks, Hermann's hands helping him. The water went from trickling to rushing, rushing with more and more intensity as they removed the stones that seemed to go on for miles. Newt's head began to spin, and he started to think it was useless- that there wouldn't be anything on the other side- before his hand punched out into open air, a breeze cool on his fingertips.

There was stillness for a moment, before rocks and water cascaded downwards, sending Newt and Hermann crashing into the stream below, the breath forced from their lungs and water in their eyes. They flopped onto the bank, squelching mud under their fingers as though it was the most precious thing on earth- maybe, for that moment, it was. "We made it," Hermann gasped, clutching his cane tightly, a bedraggled-looking bird fluttering indignantly to peck anxiously beside him.

Newt glared at him, coughing up a mouthful of water. " _Glowing tears_? Your tears actually glow, and like, you didn't think to mention that. You didn't think that was worthy of any kind of comment. You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, dude."

Hermann rolled his eyes and started wringing the water from his shirt. "Honestly, it didn't come up in conversation. Come on, we should find camp before night sets in." He strode off, wet shoes making gross wet noises as he walked. Newt pulled the grumpiest face he could.

" _Didn't come up in conversation_ ," he mimicked, before pulling himself to his feet and hurrying after him.

* * *

 

The dagger struck the tree trunk hard, the blade sticking into the wood and leaving the handle quivering. "Again," Hannibal growled, pacing back and forward like some kind of wildcat. "The slippery bastard got away again. I'll kill him- with my bare hands, not some fancy weapon- I wanna get up close and ugly when his neck gets wrung-"

"Well, you definitely have the second half of that covered," a regal voice said from behind him. "Perhaps if you stopped acting like a child for a moment, you'd get a little further with the other." Hannibal wheeled round, and found himself face to hood with a cloaked figure, a broadsword lashed to his side.

"Yeah, because I really need some random punk's help with this," Hannibal snorted, yanking his knife out of the tree and levelling it at the man. "Skedaddle."

"Perhaps not, but I believed that you'd be interested in this." The figure reached inside of his cloak and pulled out a silver circlet, tossing it at Hannibal's feet, where it gleamed temptingly in the dust. "This came into my possession, by happenstance. In a tower I possess, no less. But I expect you still want me to, ah, _skedaddle_ , as you so elegantly put it. What a shame, when the deal I could have offered would have made you richer than your wildest dreams, and that wasn't even the _highlight_." He shrugged, turning to go, before Hannibal cleared his throat loudly.

"What's the highlight?" he asked gruffly, nose wrinkling like an animal scenting blood. "And while we're at it, what's the catch?"

Underneath the man's hood, his teeth glinted in a smile. "Well, the highlight was going to be hideous, painful revenge on the one you called Otachi," he answered. "And, well, the catch would probably be having to inflict some harm on a couple of innocent people."

"Well, yeah," Hannibal grinned. "But what's the catch?"

* * *

 

Turned out that trawling around Corona at night in soaking wet clothes was even colder than you'd expect.

Newt had long since taken the lead, guiding them through the now densely-packed houses and low hanging trees as the moon shone heavily in the sky. He hadn't stopped muttering to himself after they'd pulled themselves out of the river, and that was something Hermann would be worried about- probably should be worried about- if he hadn't been focused on keeping his core temperature above thirty five degrees.

Newt ran a hand through his hair, making a frustrated noise. "What I don't get is why you didn't tell me. Like, really, magical shiny powers didn't factor into the introduction equation? That didn't strike you as something I should know? But ooooh no, Hermann's got it all figured out, with his _algorithms_ and his _multiplication tables_ , though it's not like you would have made it a foot out the door if it hadn't been for me, huh? Right?"

"I-I'm s-s-s-" Hermann tried to stop his teeth from chattering long enough to answer, his entire body shaking. Newt turned round to look at him, his features a lot more anxious than truly angry.

"Oh, man, of course, you're not used to this cold- uh- wait here," he held up his hands, and before Hermann could protest he had vaulted over the nearest wall dividing a house from the wilderness.

"You c-c-can't just- _N-Newton_!" He hissed, glancing round nervously, before another shiver coursed through his body and he shut his eyes tightly against the cold. He didn't hear footsteps approaching, but his eyelids flickered open as a thick woollen blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, the heavy fabric already forcing warmth back into his bones.

Newt bit his lip, studying Hermann nervously, a similar blanket wrapped round his own body. "You got me stealing from grandmas now, Hermann. Stole these from some poor little old lady's washing line, for shame." He grinned at Hermann's scandalised expression. "Nah, I'm just kidding, she won't miss them. You look more like a drowned rat than the old hag ever will, trust me, you need it more than her."

Hermann shook his head. "H-h-h-"

"Hey, what's that buddy, you saying something? You trying to speak?" Newt took his shoulders, still grinning, as Hermann glared at him.

"H-Hate… you…"

"Brilliant." Newt only seemed to grin wider. "Back to normal already. Come on, we should start a fire, before you actually become an icicle- don't look at me like that, my father was a doctor, it could totally happen. Here's as good a place as any to set up camp." He started grabbing a few pieces of dry wood, glancing at Hermann repeatedly as he settled in the hollow of a fallen tree. He struck two twigs together, tiny sparks flying from the contact and catching the pile alight, and sat down heavily next to Hermann, pulling the blanket around his shoulders and pulling Hermann close to his side. Familiar starlight filtered through the tree canopy in a way that might have been beautiful if Hermann could stop jittering long enough to look.

Because Newton was acting normal. He was acting like Hermann wasn't something to be afraid of.

"You'll warm up a lot faster if you take off your clothes, you know. Just spitballin' here," Newt grinned, making Hermann splutter. "What? Simple biology, dude. Or maybe physics? I don't care."

It was too much- Hermann couldn't look at him, couldn't fake being jovial and cheery, couldn't face the rejection he always expected but was always disappointed by. "Newton, do you- why are you still here? Do you not despise me, now? I won't resent you, I promise."

"No, what the hell, dude?" Newt said it with such surprise, so much sincerity that Hermann almost forgot to doubt him. "Like I was just gonna up and leave you as soon as I find out you got some crazy magic voodoo tears, wow. Do I wish you'd told me? Definitely. Am I freaking out slightly about it? Sure. But I trust you, okay, and not just because you saved both our skins back there, but because we're friends. Really, I don't care, Hermann. Not like that," he added, when Hermann flinched away. "I care about you, that's the point I'm trying to make. Whatever massive secret witchy crap you got going on, I'm gonna ride it out, because I'm with you, alright?"

Hermann lifted his head, eyes tell-tale wet. "You're… freaking out."

" _Processing_ is probably closer to the mark." Newt shrugged. Shrugged. Like they were discussing the weather. "But, in fairness, you're being super cryptic right now, and, like, _magical glowing tear_ s, Hermann. How was I supposed to react?"

"I know," Hermann's voice was hoarse. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be, can you just- explain? You like numbers; every outcome has an explanation, right?"

Numbers. Solid, predictable outcomes. Hermann knew those like the back of his hand. But this was the first time he'd had to put it into words, and God if that didn't terrify him. "It's- it's probably easier if I show you." He nearly reached for Newt's hand, on impulse, then realised he still wasn't sure if he could. "May I?"

Wordlessly, Newt presented his left hand, the skin ruined and bloody from the cave wall. Hermann became acutely aware, as he bit down hard on his lip until tears sprung in his eyes, of how he pulled Hermann closer to show him rather than pushing him away. He was also acutely aware of how nice that felt. "Huh, my hand, I didn't even notice I'd- Hermann you're crying why are you crying on my hand."

Hermann wiped his watering eye with his sleeve. "I'm not crying, really, it's just moisture. Watch." He nodded to Newt's palm, the silver drops sinking into the skin and knotting it back together, until only a thin pink scar was left. He let out a deep breath as Newt turned his hand frantically back and forth. "Before I was born, I was exposed to the flower that grew in the palace gardens, in Corona."

Newt let out a low whistle, reflexively clenching and unclenching his hand. "Whoa. The one all the fairytales are about, that grew from starlight and had magical powers and stuff? Well, I guess yeah, how many other magic star flowers do you see casually growing. That was a thing?"

"Yes, and I, apparently, am the evidence of it. Some of the healing properties passed on to me. I can heal injuries, cure illnesses, give people power… and strength…" He put his head in his hands. "I wanted to tell you, truly I did, but would you have believed me if you hadn't seen it firsthand?"

"Probably not," Newt wrinkled his nose. "And I'm not gonna pretend like this isn't, uh, unusual is probably an understatement." He shook his head. "Damn, dude, why do you stay locked up in that tower all the time? Not just this, like, your mad engineer skills could save so many lives and you keep it to yourself. Do you know how many people you could help with this?" His voice rose in pitch, indignation creeping in.

"Do you really think I have the choice?" Hermann snapped, his voice louder than he'd meant it to be, but the words poured out of him thick and fast like foul-tasting treacle. "I didn't _like_ being in the tower, Newton. It's almost as though people don't actually react well when confronted with witchcraft, Newton. I'd either be slaughtered if people found out, or forced to cry for hours on end so people could use my gifts. If that sounds appealing to you, I apologise, but it's hardly the life I'd envision for myself- or anyone-" His hands shook; his leg started to ache again, a dull throb against the quiet. "Please say something."

Newt stared at him, mouth slack. "Dude, I had no idea-"

"Of course you didn't. I wouldn't expect you to." Hermann folded his arms, exhausted.

"So that's why you've been so scared of being attacked all this time? Some kind of slave traders or- bad people-"

"What a lovely euphemism for executers." He sighed. "I want to help, Newton, I truly, truly do. But my Sire decided that it was a good reason- amongst others- to isolate me. Hence, tower."

"Hence, you're touch starved and anxious. Don't look at me like that, Hermann, I feel you nestling toward me. But couldn't your father-"

"Sire." He corrected sharply. Hermann hadn't had a father in a long time, if ever.

"Couldn't your _sire_ have given you some kind of company? Friends, even?" Newt's thumb rubbed absently across his shoulder, leaving electric sparks on his skin.

"No," Hermann shook his head, laughing mirthlessly. "That wasn't an option, and frankly, this is not something I cherish saying, but-" He took a deep breath, forcing oxygen into his brain and arteries that were screaming _do not push him away_. Forcing them to be logical. "Newton, you're my friend, but you really shouldn't be."

"Okay, cool, so we're going into this talk knowing whatever your viewpoint is, it's complete horse dung." Newt waved his hand. "Go ahead."

"Listen to me, Newton!" Birds chirruped in the trees at his outburst. "My magic isn't natural, and what's more, it doesn't even do _good_. The only people I've been around, I've hurt. My mother didn't survive the night when she bore me. My Sire- when he visits, that is- can barely stand the sight of me without being sick, he tolerates me for my tears and with every shred of goodness in his heart. Even after taking his wife, I still couldn't be what was needed- never strong enough, never good enough. No amount of grave dressing can disguise the fact that I ruined him, ruined everything; that it would have been better had I not been born at all, but the least I can do is live my life without inflicting this- monstrosity- on other people."

"You think you're some kind of monster, Hermann?" Newt asked, in a very small voice. "I mean, you've not hurt me. Do- do you really think that about yourself?

Hermann's eyes started to sting. "I've not hurt you yet, you mean, and yes. I know so. My Sire is-"

"Please don't say he was right." Newt shook his head, vibrating, voice strained. "God, Hermann, please don't say you think he was right to lock up a child by itself and tell him he was a monster."

"But he-" Before Hermann knew what was happening, he was being pulled into a hug, the smell of pine and nutmeg in his lungs. He tried to go still in Newt's embrace, but as it continued, he was compelled to hug back.

"Hermann, I may be a thief and a liar and I might joke around a lot, but I'm saying this with every scrap of honesty and seriousness I own. You're not some kind of, some kind of monster, okay." Newt's breath hitched, and he buried his face in Hermann's neck, muffling his voice.

"But-"

"No butts unless I'm touching them. I'm not gonna believe it, and you can't make me. Holy- it wasn't your fault, alright? You were a baby, goddamnit, you didn't kill your mother, sickness did. As for strength, what kind of _Sire_ " he emphasised the word "locks up their kid because they're not too nifty in a fight? God, Hermann, you've not ruined anything, other people have tried to ruin you. There's a difference."

"You hardly know me," Hermann said quietly. "Why do you think all this about me, so easily?"

"Doesn't take a genius to work out you have some kind of screwed-up sense of self worth, dude, and I actually am a genius. Can I be the first to say that this monster thing, pretty damn weird, because to me you seemed plenty heroic and awesome back in the cave. And, uh, ever since I freaking set eyes on you. Do you want me to recap how brave you were? Or, hey, I could focus on your intelligence, or your quick-thinking, or your determination, stop me if I'm boring you…" Newt's voice was coarse, but it dawned on Hermann that he genuinely meant every word. "If you're a monster, then I don't ever wanna be a hero."

Hermann shook his head, more to clear it than to disagree. He scrambled for some words, but truth be told, there weren't many around when faced with that kind of speech. "I- Thank you."

Newt pulled away, and shrugged. "I'm just sorry I seem to be the first person to say it." His eyes looked extraordinarily green in the firelight, Hermann noticed. A vivid shade flecked with shards of light, like an opal. It suddenly seemed like the worst crime in the world to only be noticing them now. "So yeah. Staying right here. Staying your friend, if you want me."

"I want you," Hermann said automatically, before flushing red and looking away. "Ah- I mean-"

Newt snorted. "Don't burst a vein, man, I got you." They settled back down in the tree's hollow, the words running through Hermann's mind like a gentle, golden hum. "You know, if I ever see this Sire dude, point him out so I can shove his ideas of suitability and blame and freaking- freaking love right up his superior butt. Who is he, anyway? Some kind of earl who's so up himself he can't get his pants on right?"

"You're a few tiers of the hierarchy off the mark." Hermann said gently, tensing. "Aim a little higher."

"Oh, no way, some kind of duke? Fancy. You're paying for our next meal."

"Newton, you're probably going to steal our next meal. And, ah, not quite. Another guess."

Newt frowned. "But the only thing higher than that is the-" His eyes widened. "No way. No freaking way. You're actually kidding, Hermann, aren't you."

"I fail to see what's amusing about my parentage."

"Hell yeah it's not amusing, man, don't you know what this means?" Newt blinked at him.

"You're the lost prince, dude! The actual future monarch of Corona! You're saying that you weren't kidnapped, that the King- the actual King- ordered you to be- wow. I can't believe you're just sat there all chill and normal, when you could-" It was one thing to have a kingdom and not know about it. It was another entirely to know you are entitled, and have it kept out of reach.

"Whatever you were about to say, I find it unlikely. The King may technically be my father, but I am very much no longer his son, Newton, not in his mind. I am a resource. Besides, what would I do with a kingdom I've never stepped foot in?" He shuddered, heart stuttering as Newt took the movement as a reaction to the cold and pulled him closer.

"Eh, I bet you could get the hang of it, Herms." Newt shrugged, but let it drop. "Or maybe not. You're too much of a dork to be King, you'd like, dedicate a public holiday to looking at frogs and reading books. Maybe I could be your king in chief and actually do cool stuff."

"That day would be a wonderful day, and you know it." Hermann smiled, than did a double take. "Wait, you called me Herms. That's not my name, Newton, did you lose a syllable somewhere behind those egotistical aspirations?"

"Oh, you caught that, huh? Well, Newton isn't my name, either." He mimed gagging. "Newton. What am I, some secluded librarian nerd- oops, sorry," he grinned widely as Hermann elbowed him in the ribs.

"It suits you," Hermann teased lightly. "Besides, what else can I call you? Ah, yes, Otachi. Isn't that one of the names of those ridiculous Kaiju, in the stories?"

"Hey, don't knock the Kaiju, man, the Kaiju are more badass than any of us will ever be." Newt stuck his lower lip out, petulant. "They like, wreck stuff, but they don't care about princesses, they just wanna get some neat treasure, have some fun. We should all be taking a leaf from the Kaiju handbook."

"There's a handbook?"

"Of course there is, Hermann, how else would they learn how to wreck kingdoms?"

"Oh, naturally," Hermann laughed, light, easy. "So, why did Newton Geiszler become Otachi, then?"

Newt squirmed, looking at his twisting hands or the fire or anywhere except Hermann. "C'mon man, you know I don't go in for the tragic backstory shebang."

"It seems only fair, since I described all my infant years to you." Hermann blinked, eyes wide and still a little red from crying, the firelight casting long shadows of his eyelashes oh no Newt you are so fucked.

"Ugh, I guess- okay. You're not to tell anyone, though. I've got a devil-may-care attitude to maintain, don't you know." Newt sighed. "I, uh- my mother decided that she didn't want to take care of such a hyperactive, troublemaking kid, and- and my father, he worked so hard but he'd never made a lot of money from the medical practice. So growing up I was essentially too poor to even afford dirt." He scratched the back of his head, shoulders tense. Hermann rested a hand on Newt's leg, watched him relax slightly. "But I used to go and hear the school nurse tell magical stories about these powerful creatures who could steal what they wanted and fly where they wanted to go and trample over anything that hurt them and, well- it sounded nice. Much nicer than watching my dad work himself so hard to look after me." He laughed nervously. "After he died, I left the town, changed my name, decided to steal and flirt my way into the life he would've wanted me to lead. I've, uh, been running ever since." Newt's mouth twitched upwards, and he stood abruptly. "Firewood! Firewood is a thing. A thing I should, get, or, whatever."

Hermann reached out and took Newt's hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you. And for the record?"

Newt swallowed "Yup?"

"I rather like Newton Geiszler the way he is." Hermann's smile was warm as the sun, and Newt couldn't help but smile back, before heading off into the darkness.

Hermann sighed wistfully, clutching the hand to his chest, then dropping it. You're not some wishy washy maiden with a suitor, Hermann get a hold of yourself. But… he liked Newton so much. So, so much, not just because he was the best friend he'd ever had, but because he was funny and kind and Hermann kept catching himself staring too long at his pink, full lips, imagining tangling his hands in his dark hair… tracing his tongue over the inked lines on his skin like they did in the romance novels he'd read and reread, spines scored at his favourite parts. He looked up between the tree branches, where silver starlight filtered between the leaves, glimmering as though a piece of his heart, his dreams, was still talking with them. Hermann had never been afraid of the dark; the night was his habitat, his home, and even when the stars were hidden behind the clouds, the world was never truly dark. "Stars… Tell me what to say to him. Tell me what I should do."

"Well, I thought you'd never ask," a voice drawled from the bushes, and Hermann jumped half out of his skin, heart suddenly beating wildly against his ribcage. Lars grinned, teeth like a shark's as he approached Hermann, who shrank back inside the tree, then darted up, holding out his hands like he was warding off a wild beast. "You honestly believed I wouldn't know about this… excursion?" he asked, curling his upper lip into a sneer. "I've been watching you since you left, monster, but now you've had your fun I think you'd better come back with me, don't you?" he extended a hand, but Hermann shook his head frantically, fisting his hands into the soft blanket he was still wrapped in, grounding himself in the autumn-leaf orange softness.

"No- no, you can't make me." His voice wavered, and he hated it for it- hated himself for it. "You were wrong, Sire, people aren't just- just using me, they don't hate me, they don't think I'm a monster."

"And how long will that last?" Lars' voice boomed, making birds squawk in the trees and leaving Hermann, wide-eyed and paper white, silent in the dying firelight. "How long until you do something that hurts them? Do you really think they'll stick around forever once they know how you ruin things? Wake up, monster."

Hermann bit his lip, ducking his head. "But- I like him. And- d-despite everything… I think he likes me too."

"Ah yes, the wanted thief- obviously a far superior judge of character to the ruler of a kingdom, my mistake. Then I supposed he won't be interested in this?" From within his dark cloak, he brandished Newt's leather satchel, a look of triumph on his face. "This is all he cares about! This is why he tolerates you! If you gave this to him, he would be gone in a heartbeat, and you know it, so you know what? Continue on this pointless exercise." He threw the satchel at Hermann's feet- it fell short of him, but he still flinched. "But when you give him this and he drops you, don't come running back with those devil's tears in your eyes. At the very most, you are disposable. When have I ever been wrong, monster? When have I ever been wrong?"

Hermann said nothing, choosing instead to trace five-pointed patterns in the grass with his foot. He heard a glob of spit sail past his head, then retreating footsteps. He let out a shivery breath of relief, leg buckling as adrenaline stopped sustaining his body. He scrambled back into the tree, shoving the satchel into the knotted bark and trying to focus on slowing his heart down. It was an agonising few minutes wait until Newt returned, whistling, with a heap of dry logs on his shoulder. "Hey, Herms, you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost." He settled back down next to him, nudging his shoulder. "You know I'd protect you if the woods are haunted, right? Oh, hey, maybe I have super strength in the hand you healed. You know, to match my superhuman good looks!"

Hermann nodded, not quite ready to joke along with him. "Just tired. It's been a big day, after all."

"Let's get some shuteye, then. You need your beauty sleep for the lanterns tomorrow after all." Newt hesitated, then pressed a delicate kiss on Hermann's hollow cheek. "Goodnight."

Hermann leaned into the crook of his shoulder. "Goodnight", he replied, very quietly, ignoring the way the satchel dug into his back, instead choosing to focus on Newt's warmth, the rush of his deep exhales against his skin. For the first night in what seemed like a long time, Hermann drifted peacefully to sleep, and dreamed in colour, knowing he would remember what he saw when he woke up.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Hermann felt truly cradled by the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Basically I took a break from this because I wanted to tackle the Issues here correctly, and that break ended up being... 9 months long.... but hey I passed my A Levels and started working as a freelance poet within that time so that's cool! I'm sorry for leaving such a cliffhanger but I'm gonna try and update it more frequently now!  
> Twitter: @SnakeWrites  
> Tumblr (kinda inactive): Juniperpunk
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I have no idea if people still care about this ahaha so if you do please comment what you thought of the update so I don't feel like a sad egg shouting into the void.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. This is the Tangled AU that noone except me asked for.
> 
> As you can probably tell, this is gonna be pretty different from the actual film. Hermann's not going to have long hair, for example. The Stabbington brothers will be one person. Lars is his real father. But overall, the plot will be very much the same (because legit who doesn't want these nerds to go on fantasy adventures). It'll be updated fairly frequently, so yeah, I hope you enjoy the ride ^_^
> 
> This will be the longest thing I've ever sttempted to write so guess who's super nervous about what people think !!! (Also I have no beta so sorry for any mistakes they're my fault). I really appreciate all your comments and kudos, so please tell me what you thought of this first bit xxx
> 
> I'm also available on twitter (@otxchi) and tumblr (juniperpunk) please come bother me about this or anything else <3


End file.
